


the back of the story

by WingsOfTime



Series: ikael [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Mild Concussion, Mild Stabbing, Talking, bad familial relations, happy cuddle time, mention of emotional abuse, mention of neglect, more important conversations on Beds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsOfTime/pseuds/WingsOfTime
Summary: People do not just pop out of nowhere wholly complete in who they are. They become that way, through their experiences. Through the people that are dear to them.For the Warrior of Light, those two things happen to coincide.





	the back of the story

**Author's Note:**

> this is the obligatory backstory fic! featuring not too much plot, but important things nevertheless! some allusions to events of previous story, flowing fast.  
> (mention of emotional abuse, neglect, other warnings in tags)

“No— _at_ the light, Ikael.” Y’shtola sighed, tapping him gently on the cheek. Ikael squinted harshly.

“It’s bright!” he whined, raising a hand as if to bat it away. Thancred, next to him, caught his arm easily and peered at him.

“Pupils are dilated,” he told Y’shtola. They were blown wide, leaving the green of Ikael’s irises barely visible. They would have to wait until his equilibrium righted itself before declaring him fit for duty.

Y’shtola sighed once more, closing her hand around the conjured spark and vanishing it. “It is fairly minor,” she said, “But I would try to see if he can hold a decent conversation at the very least before letting him rest. How did it happen this time?”

“Hm?” said Thancred, acting purposefully obtuse. He reached out to steady Ikael, who wasn’t moving in the slightest. Y’shtola crossed her arms.

“Thancred,” she said, “How did Ikael get a concussion?”

“Ah…” Thancred smiled sheepishly. “Well. You see, Ikael and I were—”

“Thancred hit me in the head,” Ikael said promptly. His speech was slurring, just a bit. Thancred frowned at him.

“… Ikael and I were sparring,” he told Y’shtola as he carefully felt Ikael’s skull. Ikael obediently bent his head down and let himself be prodded at. “I landed an unfortunately strong hit. To be fair, he clocked me in the jaw earlier.”

He didn’t mention that the collision with the wall behind them had been what had caused Ikael’s concussion, not the (somewhat) more meager force of his fist.

“Hm. Unfortunate he didn’t aim higher,” Y’shtola intoned. “Might have knocked your brain to its rightful position. As it is, I shall leave you two be. Thancred, he’s your responsibility until he is aware enough to be left alone.”

Thancred gave a little bow. Someone flicked him on the head.

“Ikael,” Y’shtola said, “I can feel you drifting off. No sleeping until Thancred lets you.”

“’m awake,” Ikael said woozily.

Thancred glanced at him and shook him, quickly. Ikael wrinkled his nose and hit him with his tail.

“No busywork,” Y’shtola called over her shoulder, apparently already fed up with them. “And if Alphinaud comes along, tell him to _wait._ ”

She walked off, and Thancred turned to Ikael, giving him a quick once-over for perhaps the dozenth time in the last half bell. Hm…

“Come on,” Thancred suggested, “Let’s go somewhere and chat for a bit, perhaps? Then we can nap, if you really want to.”

Ikael snorted ungracefully. “Cat nap,” he snickered as Thancred put a hand on his back and gently started to lead him away.

“Yes, you’re hilarious,” Thancred said, glancing around for a good place to sit. It had started to rain outside, so they perhaps shouldn’t leave the building, but… ah, there. A wide, comfortable-looking loveseat resting at the foot of a large window. No doubt they would be able to hear the pitter-patter of raindrops against the glass—Ikael would like the sound. It was nice.

Thancred plopped down in the seat, and pulled Ikael close until he fell in next to him. It was a bit cool by the window, and, well. Ikael had soft hair, and purred sometimes, and Thancred wanted to pet something. He didn’t know where his nutkin was at the moment, but he didn’t need a pet; he had Ikael.

Gods forbid he ever admit that to _anyone_ else.

“Have I told you,” Thancred started, once Ikael’s head was settled against his chest and Thancred had threaded his fingers loosely through his hair, “How Louisoix and I met? Or how I became an Archon?”

“Mmmrrr, no,” mumbled Ikael.

“Well, now it’s an interactive story,” said Thancred. He tapped Ikael’s cheek. “Eyes open, my friend. Now, you know I was born in Limsa…”

He told Ikael about growing up amidst the company of pirates and thieves and other street children, about learning to snatch purses with quick fingers before his hand got swatted, or worse, cut off, about running along the ropes awning Limsa Lominsa, the constant, salty smell of the open sea stretching out for malms in every direction. Every now and again, he would pause and ask Ikael a question, and Ikael would grumble that yes, he was aware of where the Marauder’s guild was, and no, he didn’t know much about the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss, why was Thancred asking?

Thancred told Ikael about meeting Louisoix, how a failed mark had resulted in him being knocked across the cobblestones, and Ikael laughed. For an offensively long time. Thancred grunted at him good-naturedly and kept talking.

“And that is how I ended up in Ul’dah,” he finished with a little flick of his wrist for flair. “The rest, as they say, is rather debonair history.”

“It is nice to know things about you,” Ikael said, blinking slowly at the rain. It had started beating down harshly somewhere in the middle of Thancred's story, but now it had slowed to a soft drizzle. “At least when I know you are not simply making it up. But you’re being honest.”

He tucked his head against Thancred's chest once more and sighed contentedly. His tail flicked upwards lazily, draping itself over his waist.

Thancred _was_ being honest. He wondered how Ikael could tell. They had been spending more time together, as of late—and that was mostly Thancred's doing. Ever since the waterfall… well. Regardless, it was nice to have someone he could simply talk to without worrying overmuch about how he appeared. Additionally, Ikael seemed adamant to always shower him in unconditional affection for some reason, which was, Thancred had to admit, rather sweet. And… in light of recent revelations…

“’Tis your turn now, my friend,” Thancred declared, patting Ikael’s arm. “Tell this bard a story, hm? Perhaps you might even be good at it—not as much as myself, of course, but good enough.”

“Yeah?” Ikael looked up at him. “If you are interested, it is only fair. What do you wish to hear?”

Thancred took a readying breath.

“Tell me how you grew up, if you don’t mind. Maybe I can learn something new about you,” he said, because he didn’t know how else to word, _I don’t have enough details to know how I can reassure you about your crippling fear of abandonment, and it’s all I’ve been able to think of ever since you told me._

“Life in the clan, hm,” Ikael mused absently, seemingly to himself. Then he smiled. “Alright,” he said. “Although I warn you; I am not, unfortunately, you, and thus no storyteller.”

Thancred gave a noncommittal hum, and Ikael began.

“Well, once upon a time there was a little boy. A little kitten. And he cried a lot,” he said.

“Oh?” interjected Thancred, because he couldn’t help himself, “Sounds familiar.”

Ikael laughed.

“Thancred,” he said, “I know why you’re asking me this.”

Thancred's heart skipped a beat, but his voice was steady when he asked, “You do?”

“You’ve been… different, lately. Around me, I mean. And,” Ikael paused uncertainly, “I think it’s a good thing, yeah? But if you… if you want to hear about…”

“You do not have to tell me anything you do not want to, Ikael,” Thancred said softly, even as disappointment seeped into his chest. “You do not owe me an explanation.”

Ikael looked at him. “Do you want to know?” he asked.

Thancred looked back at him. Ikael’s hair had fallen to the side, and Thancred could see that the familiar scar running down his cheek from his eye actually extended higher, bisecting his eyebrow and continuing up his forehead. Thancred wondered how he had gotten it. He wondered if Ikael would tell him about it, if he asked, and if it was easier than telling Thancred—telling _anyone_ —about what Thancred really wanted to know.

“I wish to know,” he said, “Only if you wish to tell me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Ikael shook his head. “Will telling you make that look on your face go away? The one that’s been showing up every time my ears droop just a bit, ever since the waterfall?”

Thancred's breath caught. Ikael met his gaze knowingly. Thancred closed his eyes. Opened them.

“It… it pains me,” he admitted in a low voice, “Thinking of how you were in that cave. Knowing that I cannot… _help_ you, that I am all but useless when long-term solutions are considered. You are… dear to me, Ikael, more so than I had ever thought you’d be, and to see you… _desperate_ like that, and know that I do not have the right words to say… I cannot…”

“I am sorry,” Ikael said softly, pressing his temple to Thancred's jaw. “I… I should consider things from your point of view, too, I know. I am just… I’m not used to anyone… I’m not…”

“I _know_ ,” Thancred said. “And I… I want to give you space, but…”

“Let me tell you, all right?” Ikael said quietly. “I do not want you to feel useless; you are _not_. And… I can tell it, I think. But… you won’t be… happy. By some points in the story. You might get upset.”

“Understood,” Thancred said, pulling Ikael closer to him and closing his eyes.

And so Ikael told him, at first hesitantly, but getting more confident as he wove his tale for a trusted friend. He told him about how he had grown up as Kael, a small boy of the I clan with bright eyes and a joyous heart. He told Thancred about running in the desert, being fast, being tiny, being a good deal younger than two older brothers who towered above him. About being oh-so-shy and sticking to his mother’s— _Mamae’s—_ side like glue, about how those two older brothers didn’t quite like him, because he was soft, and he cried. And because their mother wouldn’t just coldly shoulder some sense into him, like the nuhn had done to his brothers as they grew up, because she had vowed _not again, not for this one_.

And one day, when he had been happy and smiling and running with two older brothers who _loved him, because he loved them_ , even if they teased him a bit nastily and played with him a bit roughly _,_ them and their friends had taken him to the bottom of a ravine and said _Close your eyes, Kael, and count to_ …

“Ikael. Ikael, it’s alright.” His hands were shaking in Thancred's, and his breathing was getting rapid. Damn—Thancred knew this had been a bad idea—

“I’m with you, alright?” Thancred said firmly. “You’re safe.”

“They—they told me to sit inside a crawlspace,” Ikael continued, voice trembling, head pressed against Thancred's heart. Thancred purposefully slowed his breathing. “To… to _wait_ , because they had a… a surprise, and…”

“You do not have to continue,” Thancred insisted, ready to call the entire story off, but Ikael shook his head.

“I think I need to,” he said.

… Alright, then.

Ikael swallowed. “I opened my eyes when I heard a noise,” he said. “It was the sound of a rock—a boulder—falling down from the clifftop above me. I… I was terrified—I couldn’t move, and then there was another rock, and then another, and… I was trapped. There were some gaps, but they were too small, and I wasn’t strong enough by far to push the rocks away…”

Anger surged in Thancred with molten heat. “How could they do that,” he said in a low voice, “To a _child_? To their _brother_?”

“They hated me,” Ikael said simply. “Father was… not the kindest man, and he never hit them, I think, but… he was… harsh. Mamae never forgave herself, and when I was born, she kept him away from me. She was so strong.” His voice goes soft for a moment. “I hope I see her again someday. Anyways, they… they left me there, for… _gods_ , I... don’t know how long.”

“I am so sorry,” Thancred said tightly, and Ikael smiled, a bit sadly.

“I was convinced that the whole clan had plotted to trap me in there because they had decided to get rid of me,” he continued. “I learned later that that was not the case—but I did not know that then. When Mamae found out, she was _livid_. She freed me and then she _kicked their arses_. Not... not my brothers. Their friends were older, adult tias close to leaving the tribe, but… she would not harm her own children. Their friends got kicked out, and my brothers stayed, because they were teenagers and could not fend for themselves. They, uh… mostly left me alone after that. I think they were scared of Mamae.”

He laughed a bit. Thancred tried to feel calmed by the sound.

“Actually, um… most of the other children also left me alone. I had… one close friendship, but he wasn’t…” Ikael looked at his hands.

“People were scared to interact with me, I think,” he said. “To them, I was a strangely protected child—they did not understand why my mother and I were so close. I became a hunter, and eventually I… I left. I do not think of them as my family—only my mother holds that title, to me.”

“They didn’t,” Ikael paused. Closed his eyes.

“Mamae is the only one that came for me,” he said softly. “She was not the only one who knew. The tribe did not care. I…” He trailed off.

Thancred held him tightly. There was more to the story, he had a feeling, but he didn’t think either of them were prepared to hear it.

“I am sorry,” he said again, because he did not know what else to say. It must have been good enough, anyway, because Ikael smiled at him.

“Thank you for listening,” he said.

“Thank you for telling me,” Thancred replied. “It is brave of you, to relive all of this. And I… I know more, now. If something ever happens.”

“I… I am trying,” Ikael said unnecessarily, because of _course_ he was, “to… know. More. About things.”

He made a frustrated sound, and Thancred shushed him.

“My things, I mean,” Ikael continued with an unhappy pull to his mouth. “I’m trying to not be…”

“I know, Ikael,” Thancred said. “You are trying to get better, yes?”

Ikael nodded.

Thancred pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It is the best we can hope for, at the end of the day,” he said, watching the last of crystalline raindrops hit the ground outside, “To get better.”

~*~

Thancred toed at a small rock on the ground, then kicked it into a nearby puddle. It puttered across the surface, sinking in about half an ilm of water. Thancred watched as the ripples faded, then glanced up at Ikael.

“Yes, Gaill. No, I won’t be able to visit… Just take the ventures from storage.”

Ikael was frowning as he talked, tail swaying gently and hand held to his ear, listening carefully to whatever his (imbecilic) retainer was saying. His ears were twitching every few seconds, as if searching for the source of the voice he was hearing. Thancred smiled, amused. He wondered if that happened every time someone called Ikael by linkpearl.

“No—I left them with _you_ , not Simeon. Just… what?”

Thancred squinted up at the cloudy sky. It probably would not rain again, since the last time had been but a few days ago, but they should hurry, just in case. It would not do to get caught in a downpour.

He beckoned to Ikael, who nodded, and said, “It doesn’t matter, Gaill, I have plenty—no, I don’t care about you robbing me. No. Well, tell him I said you could! Oh, and you can eat some of that extra miq'abob if you get hungry—no, it’s fine. Gaill, it’s _fine._ Okay, I have to go—ok. Yes. Yes.”

Thancred sighed, loudly.

“Okay, Thancred is giving me lip; I really do have to—what? Oh yes, him… Oh? Did he really—?”

“I’m leaving!” Thancred declared, starting to walk off. He heard Ikael utter a rushed goodbye to his retainer, before quick footsteps caught up to him.

“Wait—ah. Sorry about that,” Ikael said, trotting up next to him. “Hey, did you really try to start a fighting pit with small children and then threaten my retainers to keep quiet about their discovery of your illegitimate activities, ‘or else?’”

Thancred stared at him. “Your retainers are idiots,” he said.

Ikael laughed. “Yes, you’ve told me that,” he replied.

Ahead of them, their path stretched out.

They had been sent on a routine patrol route around Mor Dhona, in replacement of a squadron that had all caught a nasty little flu. _You can’t fight if you can’t think clearly_ , Ikael had said to them whilst cheerfully handing them enough soup to feed a small army. _No worries; we’ll take care of it_ , he’d added, and then _Hey, Thancred, get back here._ After a brief scuffle, they had both set out.

There was a briskness to the wind carried over from Coerthas, but it wasn’t too cold. It could almost be called a nice walk, in fact; the route they were taking wasn’t known to be too busy or dangerous. Except… there was something. In the air, a sense of unease that grew the longer they walked. Thancred felt… odd about it. Yet even while keeping a wary eye out, he could see nothing out of the ordinary. They did not even run into any trouble.

As they rounded the end of their route, the feeling intensified. Thancred cast another glance around—the dozenth in the last minute—but could see… nothing. Again.

“We’re getting paid for this, aren’t we?” he asked as the faded blue pulsing of Revenant’s Toll’s aetheryte drifted into view. There was no one about—suspicious, his senses told him. Something was…

“Hm? No,” said Ikael. He hadn’t seemed to notice anything strange, although he had shot Thancred a few concerned glances throughout the evening. “The soldiers need sick leave, and ‘tis not their fault they caught ill! Really, Thancred, you should try being selflessly generous sometimes. See where it leads you.”

“I thought you had decided to only take people’s requests if they gave you something worthwhile in return,” Thancred said. He looked around once more. Damn it—

“I—well. Ahem. Don’t tell anyone that. But they looked so miserable! I had to help. Did you see their—”

“ _Shht_!” Thancred froze, throwing an arm out in front of Ikael to halt his steps. “Did you hear that?” he hissed.

Ikael frowned, going still, and perked his ears up. They swiveled around, checking different directions… Ikael’s tail stopped moving save a slight twitching at the tip as he concentrated…

He shook his head, slowly. Thancred resisted the urge to let out a noise of frustration. He wanted to slip into the shadows more than anything, scout their perimeter, but… He glanced at the shade growing from the tall, tall walls around them. He had a feeling that there was… someone in there. And Ikael would be left alone.

“Wait,” Ikael muttered, and Thancred jerked his head to meet his gaze, senses on high alert. Ikael closed his eyes, frowned harder…

“There’s something,” Ikael said, opening his eyes. “A disturbance of aether. Nothing dark, and nothing powerful—I didn’t notice until I searched for it. But if there’s something around that’s bothering you, it makes sense that you can’t tell what it is.”

Thancred huffed in annoyance. Of course he was useless right now. Well, whatever the aether was, hopefully it wasn’t harmful—Ikael said it wasn’t dark. Odd that Thancred could tell something was off anyhow, almost like there was something else—

“It’s cloaking magic,” Ikael breathed, eyes going wide. “Like ninjas use—Thancred, we’re being—”

 _Followed_.

 _Huh_ , Thancred thought as he felt something ice-cold and scorching pierce his ribs. So that’s why he could tell.

“My rogue senses were tingling,” he mumbled to a horrified-looking Ikael.

“Thancred!” Ikael rushed forward, catching him as he stumbled and clutched at his side. Whatever had stabbed him—enchanted dagger, from the feel of it—hadn’t pierced his lung—Thancred gasped in a breath laced with pain—Twelve, that hurt—

“Fuck—are you okay—gods,” Ikael said, scrabbling at him. He pulled him close to his body for support.

“I just got—unh—stabbed,” Thancred wheezed. “But other than that… yes, I’m… perfectly fine.”

“Right—stupid question, sorry,” Ikael said. He had managed to heft Thancred up so he could take most of his weight; Thancred leaned against him gratefully. They could fight back-to-back, like this, although Thancred feared he wouldn’t be much help.

“Come out,” Ikael called to the shadows around them. His voice was chilling. “Come out _now_ , or I’m going in to find you.”

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then, gradually, two shapes manifested out of seemingly nowhere. Through hazy vision, Thancred could make out long ears, tails—

“Kael,” one of them began, and Ikael froze against Thancred.

“We didn’t want to hurt your friend,” the unknown—to Thancred—miqo’te continued. “But he was talking too much, and that knife there looks nasty.”

“Neat… trick, with the teleporting,” Thancred commented, gritting his teeth through a pulse of pain.

“He’ll heal,” said the other miqo’te, ignoring him. “The wound is non-fatal.”

“What in the _hells_ are the two of you doing here?” Ikael asked, jaw clenched.  

“What most other common cutpurses do, I imagine,” replied the one who had just spoken up, sauntering forward and holding out—ah. What had stabbed Thancred, presumably. It was a wicked-looking thing, curved and even lightly serrated—a cruel weapon, meant uniquely to main and cause pain. It was successful on that front, Thancred could grant it.

“We didn’t recognize you at first, Kael,” the miqo’te continued. “But since you _are_ our brother, we’ll offer you a discount: give us your money and perhaps that expensive-looking stabber your bodyguard is sporting, and we shall leave you with your lives.”

 _Well_ then.

“Your brothers… really _are_ arses,” Thancred said to Ikael through unsteady breaths. “It makes me… feel less bad about wanting—ugh—to kill them.”

“ _Bodyguard_?” Ikael laughed dryly. “He’s not the one you have to be worried about, Zaj. So I’ll offer you the same deal: get out of here, _now_ , and I won’t kill you where you stand for hurting him.”

“I’m right… here,” Thancred said. “You can… stop ignoring me.”

Zaj—I’zaj? No matter—sneered. His brother— _their brother_? Ugh—stepped up next to him. Ah yes; Thancred could see the similarities now, if he squinted through the haze of pain clouding his vision.

“You couldn’t hurt a fly, little brother,” said the other brother, who was beginning to sound impatient. “Come on; you were never a fighter. Surrender to us what you have, and we shall leave you be.”

“That’s not it, Nhole,” I’zaj interjected. “Look at the way he’s holding on to him—they’re fucking, aren’t they? That’s sweet, Kael, that you could find someone who doesn’t mind how much of a clingy little _girl_ you are.”

“We are not…” Ikael pressed his lips together. He took a steady breath. “Zaj, Nhole, I—you are still my brothers. And… no, I can’t kill you. But I _will_ hurt you, and I am running out of patience with this—this _farce_.”

“So are we,” said I’nhole coldly. “That is it—I have no time for family squabbles. Your time is up, Kael. Zaj, finish his friend off.”

“ _No_ ,” said Ikael, holding out his arms protectively, but it was futile—they could—Thancred felt another sharp stab of pain, higher, this time, and someone _yelled_ —

_Pain, everywhere—I’m sorry, Ikael, I can’t fight like this—_

His vision went

 

Black.

~*~

“No, get him to… _now!_ Now, I swear to _Hydaelyn_ , or I’ll—”

“… with these two?”

“—don’t care. Lock them up. If I don’t get a healer—I… I… _fuck_ , I don’t—”

“Ikael. It’s fine. He’ll be…”

“… not! _I don’t know_ , fuck, I don’t _know_ what I’ll do—”

“… down. You’re not helping anyone.”

“I _can’t_ calm down—he’s—gods… _dying_ and… can’t…”

“He’s stable; he’ll pull through. He’ll pull through. Take a rest.”

“… _rest!_ I’m not _leaving_ him—”

“… Alright, Ikael.”

“I…”

“Alright.”

~*~

Ikael was slumped on a chair at the foot of Thancred's bed. He looked utterly exhausted; his ears were drooping, his hair was unkept and falling in front of his eyes, his mouth was open. Every now and then he would audibly inhale, a small, whispering gasp. His clothes were wrinkled and—not bloodstained, someone had gotten him to change, then—but still looked like they probably needed a wash.

He hadn’t notice Thancred wake up roughly ten minutes ago, which honestly said the most.

Once Thancred was sure that he was not in enough pain to be bothered by any potential jostling hugs—as long as they weren’t _too_ strong—he sighed softly and moved his head. The effect was immediate.

Ikael sprang up, eyes wide, and rushed to kneel by Thancred’s bed. Thancred managed to smile at him hazily—he looked stressed.

“Thancred,” said Ikael, and his voice sounded like a desert that hadn’t had a drop of salvation in decades.

“Hey,” Thancred replied at a reasonable enough volume. He had been kept mostly unconscious, but had been woken up a few times to drink water. To replenish any blood he had lost, most likely.

“Y… you,” Ikael started, and his voice began to shake. “You almost… died, gods, I…”

“Well I didn’t, did I?” Thancred teased with a small grin. Ikael saw it and choked out a poor laugh.

“You can’t do that again,” he said hoarsely. “I… I _told_ you, I said that I could not take it. And I… I mean it. As much as I did back then, and more.”

“Good to know I’m appreciated,” Thancred said, testing a deep breath. His lungs did not rattle—ah, good.

“ _No_ ,” Ikael said fervently, and Thancred frowned lightly at his tone. “I could not _take_ it. Not you, of all people. You’re one of the only people who has ever…”

“Hush, now,” Thancred said softly. Ikael let out a dry sob.

“I shall leave instructions, then,” Thancred continued, smiling at him gently. “‘How to care for your Ikael. One: Hug him at _least_ a dozen times an hour. Two: Make sure he eats his own food, because sometimes he forgets and gets distracted by some random stranger who lost their favourite scarf to a goobbue or some such nonsense—'”

Ikael laughed wetly and swiped at his eyes with his wrist. “You’re such an idiot,” he mumbled.

Thancred chuckled, then sighed softly. “Ikael,” he said quietly, “I am not the only one here who cares about you. The Scions are always there for you, and you can go to any of them—”

“I _know_ ,” Ikael said, cutting him off. “I… well. I’m trying to know, at least. But that doesn’t make it any better for when I eventually lose one of you. Knowing there are more people to love does not mean it hurts any less when one of them leaves.”

Thancred closed his eyes. The curtains in the room were drawn and he did not know what time it was, but the air smelled like dew and cobblestone and… something sweet and baked. Thancred smiled to himself. He wondered if feel-better pie and stress-baking combined to make… some unholy amalgamation of sugar and deliciousness.

“It _will_ hurt,” Ikael said into the quietness of the air between them. Thancred opened his eyes. “It will always hurt, no matter who it is, but… I will not let my heart harden. I will not. They will not have wanted me to.”

He looked… almost distant. Thancred wondered if he was thinking about anyone in particular. Then Ikael glanced at him and smiled, oh so fondly, and Thancred decided it did not matter.

“Speaking of hurt,” Thancred suggested, letting his head fall back, “And I do hate to make this about myself, even if I _did_ get stabbed, but…”

“Easy. Take it easy.” Ikael steadied him, helping him readjust his position on his pillow.

“Do you want me to fetch Y’shtola?” Ikael asked. Thancred winced, then nodded slowly.

“Ah, but Ikael,” he added as Ikael rose. Ikael looked at him questioningly.

Thancred considered for a moment, always hesitant, but… Ikael would not rebuke him. Ikael would not…

“Stay,” Thancred requested softly.

Something strong and tender passed across Ikael’s face. He nodded.

“Always,” he promised.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> (just in case: the "little girl" comment was a reference to ikael's general behaviour, not the fact that he's intersex. wanted to clarify)


End file.
